


on my chariot of gold

by sunnyeols



Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Ambiguous Relationships, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Character Study, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Kang Seulgi-centric, Morally Ambiguous Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:00:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28497210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnyeols/pseuds/sunnyeols
Summary: You can catch your breath now.
Relationships: Bae Joohyun | Irene/Kang Seulgi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	on my chariot of gold

**Author's Note:**

> one brief mention of driving under the influence and hinted eating disorder. stay safe, friends. i don't know how ballet companies work so i apologize for any inaccuracies!

_Rule 1: Point your toes, angle your head and break a bone. Break it many times. You can even crack your skull, if you're dedicated enough._

"Could you tell me your name, please?"

The lady at the reception desk looks up at her with an impatient frown on her face and Seulgi tears her eyes away from the wall, clearing her throat.

"Kang Seulgi. I'm here to see my older sister."

She types something into the computer, manicured nails tapping away with satisfying clicks and directs her to the west side wing. Seulgi's shoes squak against the floor as she drags her feet up the stairs.

The hospital room has a small window, high up in the wall. Her sister doesn't even acknowledge her as she pushes the door open, her head turned away. When Seulgi looks at her, a distinct wave of sadness and longing washes over her, not for her sister, but for what once could've been hers.

"Sister," she waits for her to look at her. "The hospital gown looks awful on you."

She scowls and Seulgi's face splits into a grin, leaning in to brush her lips against her temple. Congratulary kiss.

She'd been told that they look exactly alike, carbon copy of each other. Seulgi doesn't think so.

"What happened to you? The perfect daughter lays broken on a hospital bed, just months before her final _grand jété_."

Voice honey-sweet with teasing lilt, she pulls away, carefully studying her propped up foot, wrapped in white bandages. Seulgi remembers the blood on the inside of her pointe shoes, fruit she harvested for pushing herself to the very limit. She sometimes can't help but feel bad.

"Congratulations for getting the role," she whispers and straightens up. Both of their faces remain devoid of any emotion.

When their parents arrive, their mother breaking down in sobs at the sight of her daughter, Seulgi slips out of the room and heads out, not looking back. She hates being around hospitals, stench of death lingers in the waiting room and doesn't leave her clothes even when she hand washes and tumble dries her whole wardrobe. Seulgi jams a hand into her jeans pocket and whistles a tune she has heard some buskers play down the street.

Kang Seulgi doesn't do ballet.

Well, she actually does, but not like her sister. She swirls and twirls, stretches and sweats just like her, but Seulgi doesn't play dirty.

At her sister's ballet classes, Seulgi always stayed to linger in the background, mimicking the moves and memorizing the sounds until her sister shooed her away. She made it big. The Mariinsky Ballet, the Paris Opera Ballet, they were all waiting with open arms, to crush her with an embrace, to break her in the best way. Born dancer, they say.

She was the better one until Seulgi got in her way.

_Rule 2: But don't bare your neck or hunch your shoulders._

She sits back and draws her knees closer to her chest, watching the other ballerinas pace around, the fluorescent light working as a makeshift spotlight. They pat each other's back with a smile too big to be real, way too happy to be in a shithole like this. Everybody here acts like they're invincible; skipping lunch, passing sticks of gum around like it's a cigarette. Ballet is just like that. An endless competition.

"Unnie! Are you up for a night practice today? I'm looking for a buddy."

Seulgi recognizes Yerim's voice and jerks her head around to look, mind dizzy from the sudden movement. The celery sticks she has for breakfast get back to her, sometimes.

Yerim laughs, gentle like a wind chime, and helps her up to her feet.

"Sorry, did I startle you?"

Seulgi shakes her head, brushing a stray hair out of her face. "No, not at all. What's up?"

She secretly eyes the way Yerim has pulled her hair into a small bun on top of her head, knowing well that she would never be able to pull it off like Yerim does.

"The higher ups are in a frenzy. They're looking for a new Odette, since, you know..." she trails off, eyes uncertain and Seulgi nods. People shy away from talking about injured dancers, gossips are only offered around in hushed whispers, as if the mere mentions of them are a bad omen.

"Yeah, the original Odette was my older sister."

Yerim's eyes widen, almost in a comical way and her hand flies up to her mouth.

"God, I'm so sorry! I didn't know!"

"Oh no, it's fine." Seulgi reassuringly smiles, but her mind is blank. She was once the target of the rumors around the hall, something to do with her sleeping with the artistic director to land a role. Seulgi doesn't like talking about it.

"So, it runs in your blood?" Yerim says, trying to divert the topic away, "the talent for dancing, I mean."

Seulgi laughs, eyes crinkling and head thrown back.

"And everything that comes with it," she promises as their instructor walks in. Yerim looks muddled but she doesn't prod for more. Seulgi likes that about her.

She ends up declining the practice offer, saying that she has a dinner date planned with someone. A small white lie wouldn't hurt the friendship they share, she figures.

Seulgi first caught the taste of heartbreak on her lips when she was fourteen.

The feeling of canvas and leather, ballet shoes with split soles, something she can recognize in the mirror and call home. There was a girl in her ballet class, with willow limbs and the prettiest smile she has ever seen, and Seulgi had been _starstruck_. She was still fiddling with her sexuality, rolling it around in her hands and trying to make something definite out of it. A disaster in a leotard. Seulgi remembers crying on her sister's lap, tears hot and fresh on her cheeks, after the girl she adored called her a freak. Her face was neutral when Seulgi told her that she loved girls, liked soft curves more than she liked hard edges. Not reacting at all is better than reacting negatively, right?

Right?

It's already late out when Seulgi is free to change into her jeans and go home. Joohyun is waiting for her outside, dressed in a Monday suit, fancy watch glistening on her wrist. She sticks her head out of the car window, yelling "get in, princess" at her, and Seulgi promptly rolls her eyes.

The car ride is silent.

They usually go straight to Joohyun's penthouse or some expensive hotel in Gangnam because Joohyun's just stuck up like that, but this time, she drives Seulgi to a bar. One with a rooftop lounge, at that. She can see Itaewon spread out below her, blinking neon lights of red and green, and she has half a mind to fling herself off the railing but Joohyun pushes a can of beer to her chest, and Seulgi turns away.

"Nice view," she comments offhandedly and Joohyun's face eases into a smirk. Most of the small circular tables here are occupied and they both linger around the edge of the crowd.

"I'm the nice view you're talking about, right?"

Feeling the late July night breeze on her skin, Seulgi scoffs, taking a sip of her beer.

"Why did you take me here? Are you trying to get me drunk on purpose?"

Seulgi meant it as a joke, but maybe it didn't come out that way because the grip on her arm tightens. It's a sea of people in designer suits, cradling imported beers and fancy cocktails, and Seulgi knows that she doesn't really belong here.

"I thought that, you might need to go out and relax for a night or something. With all that shit happening around you. I don't know," Joohyun says, pulling her hand away. "Are you uncomfortable? We can always go back to my place."

Seulgi remains quiet, pulling the sleeves of her shirt back. Joohyun's voice is more soft now, almost drowned out in people's chatter around them.

"I mean, being here is nice too." She looks over the railing, thoughts about jumping off returning to her mind. A brisk _glissade_ across the floor. Tchaikovsky.

Joohyun leads her down to the indoor lounge, cigarette smoke thick in the air, and Seulgi lets it wash over her. There's a small stage already set up, with echo speakers and everything, but no band seems to be playing here tonight. They weave through people, bumping into shoulders after shoulders, until Joohyun finally manages to snatch a vacant table.

"Want anything else to drink?"

Seulgi shrugs, running a tongue over her teeth. Ther place is surprisingly crowded.

"Anything is fine with me."

Swan Lake. Prince Seigfried.

Late into the night, Joohyun fucks her in her car. Seulgi is dead tired, eyelids drooping with every kiss but Joohyun's hands draw sigils and work magic. She maps Seulgi's skin out; _Gyeonggi_ on the palm of her left hand, _Jeju_ on her hips, _Gangwon_ on her throat.

The sky is on her shoulder. When you think of Atlas, remember _endurance_ , not punishment.

Seulgi tries to fish her apartment key out, frustration building up in her bones with each passing second. As she finally unlocks the door and pushes it open, the television turns on with a click. Seulgi holds her breath. The news anchor woman is telling her that it will rain tomorrow. There's a lipstick stain on her front teeth, and it glares at Seulgi every time she smiles. Something lingers in the corner of her eyes, a crack in the ceiling, high wind slamming the window shut. Seulgi scrambles to the bathroom and heaves her stomach out in the sink, and her hands tremble as she pulls out a single white feather from her mouth.

The anchor woman has morphed into Joohyun. She says something about the monsoon season and Seulgi kisses her, licking the lipstick off with the desperation of a bird in a cage. Tasting iron on her tongue, she pulls away, horrified and Joohyun laughs.

Seulgi wakes up in Joohyun's bed, to rain thundering against the window.

"Have you seen my pants?"

Joohyun peeks out of the bathroom, with a ring of toothpaste around her mouth. Seulgi is dumping everything on the floor, eyes bleary and hands frantic.

"Might be left in the car. Just take one from my closet," Joohyun says, turning back to the sink. Seulgi frowns.

"Did you drive us home yesterday?" she asks, looking under the bed. Joohyun's pillowcase is across the room, lying twisted on the floor like some dead animal.

"Yes, I did?"

Seulgi momentarily disappears into Joohyun's walk in closet and returns with a pair of sweatpants.

"Didn't you drink?"

She winces at Seulgi's question and puts her toothbrush in the cup beside the sink. "I wasn't that intoxicated."

Seulgi tugs the string of the sweatpants and ties it into a small bow, eyes set on the ground as she gathers her shirt and socks. Joohyun likes to sweep everything under the rug, to forget and move on.

She wraps her hands around Seulgi, an attempt at peace making, but Seulgi easily slithers out of the hug.

"I'm busy for the rest of the week. Don't wait for me outside the company," she says and Joohyun nods like a reprimanded child. Their relationship is just like this, extreme ends and polar opposites.

"I'll drive you to work."

And Seulgi lets her. She always does.

_Rule 3: Remember. You'll never be as beautiful as a real swan._

The rumors weren't exactly false, she thinks as Baekhyun, the beloved artistic director of the company calls her into his office on the very same day she fought with Joohyun. Seulgi gets down on her knees as soon as the door clicks shut and Baekhyun makes a joke about praying to god. Seulgi doesn't laugh. The plants on the windowsill are withering from neglect but Baekhyun has at least the decency to hand her wet wipes and kiss her goodbye.

Baekhyun's wife is probably waiting for him at home, the dinner she made still warm and Seulgi tries not to think about her.

Seulgi knows that her body is not a museum, her skin is not a sacred place. No one would put her collarbone under a microscope and try to inspect what she ate for dinner. People won't take her apart piece by piece, organ by organ and cherish her dainty bones.

In days like these, when the mirrors are distorted and her body looks warped, she thinks about her sister.

She was strung out on attention, Seulgi would say. She lives on the applause. Her heart sits on her throat, and she sometimes pukes it out with her dinner. Their parents probably knew about her newest no calorie diet, but they are sick in the head, Seulgi would never expect them to care. Glory of a ballet dancer, silver and gold, it's all that matters.

"Do you have any tragic backstories?" Seulgi asks as she lowers herself into a bath full of ice water. It stings but it's better than being sore. Joohyun's sitting on the marble bathroom floor, eyebrows furrowed as she furiously taps away on her phone.

"No?" It sounds more like a question and Joohyun clears her throat before trying again. "No."

"Doesn't everybody have one?"

Seulgi sticks her hand out, skin pale and veins blue, and slips it into Joohyun's flimsy shirt. She yelps and jumps away.

"It's rude to ask about someone's trauma like that, you know," Joohyun says, letting out a breathy laugh, "stop being so nosy."

"But you know mine. I want to know yours."

Joohyun frowns at the wet spot on her shirt.

"I don't have any. Really. I took over my father's company after graduating college and I'm doing pretty fine."

Seulgi hums, resting her head on the side of the bathtub and lifts one foot up. Cold cradles her skin and doesn't let go. Joohyun's looking at her. There's a shift in the atmosphere, steady waves kissing the shore clean, air full of salt. She swiftly gets up and leaves, the sound of door closing resonating in the bathroom.

Seulgi knows that Joohyun is doing fine. But sometimes, just sometimes, she wonders.

She tries to figure her out, to read her body language, to grasp something other than just her name, but Seulgi knows that she's not Alan Turing and Joohyun is not the Enigma code waiting to be decrypted.

Seulgi notices hair growing on the back of her neck, sometime during the beginning of August. Her sister's crestfallen face stares back at her in the mirror and she can't help but shake as she reads the announcement of the new Odette. Seems like Baekhyun kept his promise, after all.

"I'm taking up her role."

Her mother flinches and the bowl in her hand kisses the ground, shattering to pieces. Seulgi cocks her head to the right, leaning against the door frame. She knows what she's doing, better than anyone else.   
It was her sister's last time here, at the Seoul Ballet Theatre, before her leap to Paris. The city of love and dream. She would've fit right in there.

"Seulgi," she begins, "what are you doing here?"

They got better at pretending to ignore the elephant in the the room with time. Seulgi barely sees her family now, anyway.

"Just dropped by to say that I'm taking up her role. I can't even visit my dear mother anymore?"

"It's not something you decide!"

"Of course, it's something I decide. I'm afraid that it's already settled."

She turns around to look at her, gaze icy.

"You did this to your sister."

Her mother's words ring like a prayer and bite like a dog but Seulgi forces herself to laugh, grabbing her hand and kissing the wrinkly knuckles.

"No. You did this to your daughter. Thank you for your blessing, mother. I'll try my best."

Seulgi finishes performing. Everybody is bowing, to whom, she doesn't know but Seulgi bows with them. Nobody's in the audience. Yerim's panting beside her, chest rising and falling, rising and falling, rising and- oh.

It has stopped rising. Seulgi steps back on a wobbly heel and screams.

Sometimes, it seems that beauty won't really save the world, after all. Seulgi wakes up, soaked in sweat. 

Joohyun says she'll pick her up in five. Seulgi puts two fingers in her mouth and pushes it further and further down until she gags. A feather lands on the ground.

The doorbell's ringing.

_Rule 4: You can catch your breath now._


End file.
